


Everybody Look to the Left (Everybody Look to the Right)

by Nervoustouch



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Dance, Obidala, Sweet Sweet Fluff, Unrequited Love, Young Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervoustouch/pseuds/Nervoustouch
Summary: Padmè realised they had been standing as they talked, their arms around each other as the music played. If anybody else had been in the room they would have been excused for thinking they were watching two beings embracing. 'How sweet this Jedi was,' she thought, and as if he had sensed her feelings, the final notes of the song reminded Obi-Wan to remove his hands from her waist.Instead he clasped them together slightly, inclining his head to his partner. His eyes lowered.





	Everybody Look to the Left (Everybody Look to the Right)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maidenjedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maidenjedi/gifts).



> Dear beautiful MaidenJedi, thank you for sending me such excellent choices in the May the 4th challenge. I hope you enjoy this story. It’s set just before Attack of the Clones. I incorporated a little of the Clone Wars, but more just the character of Satine is mentioned.

Her hand rested slightly on his shoulder. It felt odd to be so close. She watched the pinkness of her fingernails settle into the creamy fabric of his shirt.

“Concentrate on the music,” he instructed.

Padmè listened again, but the steps still eluded her. She might as well have been flying a speeder or milking a thala-siren for all the good she was doing. It seemed all she could do was stumble about holding his shoulders and feeling foolish. If the need to win the Mandalorian people’s trust wasn’t so pressing for the Galactic Senate she would have given up an hour ago. 

No doubt Obi-Wan was already regretting his impulsive offer to teach her the official state’s walz for the senator’s welcome ceremony. 

“Concentrate,” Obi-wan repeated firmly, sensing her discord. “Everybody looks to the left,” they both turned their faces left. “Then everybody looks to the right.” 

Padmè twisted her head to the right.

“Not so fast Padmè, it's a slow, gentle turn. Like you are looking for a friend in a crowd as you stroll in a park.”

“How can a Jedi be such a good dancer?” 

His eyes flickered. “Satine used to like to practice. Sometimes I partnered, if she asked me.” She saw the muscles in his face tighten as he spoke, as if thoughts of the past weighed heavier than what he felt comfortable with. “Dance is a great deal like learning lightsaber formations. You contemplate, coordinate, apply and follow through. You watch, you listen. Let the Force guide you.”

Padmè did not have the benefit of the Force to draw on, instead she thought about the Duchess Satine Kryze, the stately, blonde Mandalorian royal who was a staunch pacifist. Palace gossip suggested Obi-Wan had once been in love with the Duchess. Had he? Padmè studied the side of his face, his skin, his strong forehead, the way his hair fell in soft waves covering the tips of his ears. Was he still?

Obi-Wan looked to the left again as the music rose into a familiar series of chords, his eyes passing by her distracted gaze. She managed to mimic him only a second behind.

One of his hands let go of her waist and straightened her face, guiding her chin with a gentle thumb on her jawline. “Relax, take a deep breath,” he advised.

She stepped on his foot again.

“I cannot believe that an ex-queen and a senator for the Galactic Senate cannot dance. I thought so highly of you Padmè.” 

“I can dance. If we were on Naboo I could show you a prefect Inline Brisk.” Their bodies pushed together as Padmè stepped forward when she was supposed to step back. She blushed, trying to suppress a grin. “I could even attempt a Gungan jig, but this waltz is something quite different. It is stiff and military – and overly complicated.”

“The Manalorian’s are a people of tradition,” Obi-Wan conceded. “Maybe you need to rest?” 

Padmè stiffened, she didn’t mean to complain. It was kind of Obi-Wan to offer to help when he had so little time to himself. She should be thankful she had his knowledge. “Maybe I am tired, I'm sorry Obi. There has been some hostility in the Senate recently. It has been a great deal of pressure, but I do want to learn.”

She lifted her chin and held his shoulders firmly. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “We will master it, I'm not giving up on you; don't you give up on yourself. Truth told it is nice to have a student who is taking the time to at least listen. Anakin is so overconfident it is like trying to teach the waves to stop breaking on the sand, or the wind to blow in the direction you instruct.” 

“Anakin,” she sighed. “I wish I could see him again. He was such a funny little boy.” 

“Not so little anymore, he is a great deal taller than you now.”

“Would he dance?”

Obi-Wan considered. “He would, but he would insist on doing it better and faster than everyone else in the room. If he could possibly dance while using his lightsaber he would also include it. I pity his partner.”

The thought of the earnest, blonde boy she remembered dancing with a lightsaber made Padmè laugh. “I wish you had brought him.”

“Next time we are together I shall. I'm sure he wants to see you Padmè, he talked about you a lot, especially at first. I think you made an impression on him.”

Padmè realised they had been standing as they talked, their arms around each other as the music played. If anybody else had been in the room they would have been excused for thinking they were watching two beings embracing. ‘How sweet this Jedi was,’ she thought, and as if he had sensed her feelings, the final notes of the song reminded Obi-Wan to remove his hands from her waist. 

Instead he clasped them together slightly, inclining his head to his partner. His eyes lowered. 

***

Anakin wasn’t the only one to grow. Padmè had grown too since Obi-Wan had last seen her. Instead of the strong young girl queen he had last met, here was a strong woman. 

Thinking on their entwined past, he remembered a meeting where she had chided him in front of an audience. He recalled how she had firmly corrected him for some reluctance he had about an infiltration plan she had outlined. Padmè had called him ‘Master Jedi’ even though he had still been a Padawan. His young ego had smarted under her withering gaze. The incident had been embarrassing, but time had made the memories colour and he also remembered Padmè’s spirited speech to the Gungan king, and the bold way she had fought alongside her soldiers in the assault on Theed. 

She looked very fair now, always bright, Padmè reminded him of a bird that collects coloured items to line its nest. He had felt a well of pleasure seeing her red spotted smile in the welcoming crowd when he arrived in Mandalore.

“You are coming to the ceremony aren’t you?” Padmè asked. 

Obi-Wan brushed a hand through his beard. “I have been invited to represent the Jedi. I think a few here remember me fondly.”

“Like Satine?” 

“She is our hostess. I helped to guard her a long time ago when I was a padawan with Qui-Gon Jinn. It was kind of her to remember me.”

Padmè smiled at his air of nonchalance, and he turned to a nearby table to pour them drinks.

“Do you like her?” She pressed.

“I like a great many beings.”

They settled together. Old friends, he told himself, noticing she took the chair adjacent rather than opposite. Their arms brushed as she turned towards him. 

Obi-Wan rarely questioned the Jedi code, but sometimes he let himself consider the alternatives. Why are there so many beautiful beings in the universe, and yet, the code kept the Jedi separate? He knew the rules about forming attachments, however, he conceded, at times he was still tempted by emotion and passion. Times when serenity eluded him. The rules and robes of a Jedi could not wipe all weakness.

Some images of women he could not banish for whatever reason. Satine and Padmè. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to their strength. To their faces. 

However it was something he could not change, the code kept all the Jedi safe. He was learning to think and yet not. At least after the first push past adolescence he had grown calmer, more resigned to his role within the patterns of the Force.

“What’s wrong Obi?”

He realised he had been silent too long. He had been watching her eyelashes, the way they fluttered as she drank.

“We should practice once more,” he held out his hand to help her rise.

“What were you thinking Obi? That maybe I am as stubborn at learning as Ani? 

“No,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Nobody could be that stubborn. I was thinking how you’ve changed, how beautiful you are actually.”

Padmè paused, then he nearly jumped out of his skin as she reached out. She brushed her palms down each side of his neck until they rested innocently on his shoulders, as if her intimate gesture was just one of necessity to begin the dance. 

He moved his hands and circled her hips as they slipped into the starting position.

“You have changed so much since I saw you last also. You are beautiful too. Wiser. Even the beard is change, although I do dislike kissing a man with a beard...” Padmè snapped her mouth shut, eyes darting sideways. He could feel her nails digging into his arm. “I mean not that I... not that I am going to kiss you Obi.”

“I should start the song again.”

Obi-Wan used his Force to skip back to the correct song. The now familiar musical introduction felt stable, it felt right. This was the serenity he could count on, a clear series of actions without emotion. 

“Head up, arms relaxed,” he instructed. “Everybody turns to the left. Everybody turns to the right.”

They moved through the steps with Obi-Wan encouraging and directing. She was becoming more confident, although they laughed as Padmè miss-stepped and teetered clumsily. One of her hands dipped down his side, running lightly over his ribs before she could get back into position.

Inexplicably he felt the need to draw her closer to stop her tripping. Everything seemed so ridiculously funny. He had not felt so free in a long time.

Her dark head leant softly against his shoulder, and he felt his pulse jump before he could squash it into submission.

“Obi?”

He sensed what she was going to ask him, her mind was like shining water reflecting her thoughts clearly. Obi-Wan suddenly wondered if this was worse than training Anakin? How could he have let it all escalate? If he had just refrained from telling her how beautiful she was, or not held her so tightly.

“Maybe we have had enough practice,” Obi-Wan swallowed and watched the wall patiently avoiding eye contact, pushing gently back on Padmè’s hips to break her closeness. He hoped she would take the cue to change the subject.

Years ago he had had the same conversation with Satine. That was when he had been closer to Anakin’s age. There was a time he felt like he would never recover from that awkward outpouring. There had been some sleepless nights.

For a brief second Obi-Wan imagined turning aside the Jedi code. He became acutely aware of the feeling of his hands, and the pressure they created, on her body. She felt small and warm.

“Do you ever regret becoming a Jedi?” 

He knew what Padmè meant. Not, ‘do you regret the years of study and trials, the role of peace keeper or even the rejection of material comforts?’ What she truly asked was, ‘do you regret giving up relationships?’ Regret not being able to have parents, create children or kiss a beautiful girl. 

He kept his head steady then he looked down into her dark eyes. 

Obi-Wan smiled thinly. “Sometimes, but rarely. I suppose we are similar you and I. We have always put our work first, our love for peace in galaxy is stronger than love we could have for another being. And there is the Force to consider.”

“Ah, yes the Force,” Padmè smiled a flash of teeth. “But sometimes?”

“Sometimes.”

“I was taught that we all create Force. I am Force too,” she points out.

“Your Force is like a new star Padmè, but I feel, I feel... it would be unwise to make things uncomfortable between us. I already know what it is like to have to...” he searched for the right wording. “To have to sacrifice.”

Her hands moved on his shoulder, fingers stroked. Padmè’s voice was almost a whisper. “I will not let us be uncomfortable. I greatly esteem you.”

Obi-Wan felt quietly pleased. He couldn’t have a relationship, but he still felt pleasure at being wanted. However embarrassing the results could become.

It came to the part of the song where they had to turn their heads again. Too late he realised Padmè was looking right as he turned left. Their close angle made their faces almost collide; he could feel his beard brush against her cheek. 

Obi-Wan tried to straighten, to move out of the way but instead she followed him. Her soft lips pressing urgently against his.

For one ridiculous moment she reminded him of Anakin, determined to have her own way even when warned not to. He let her kiss him, he watched her closed eyes, gazed at her face, her skin, the curve of her ear and felt a firm arm creep around his neck to pull him deeper. Padmè may be no longer a girl, but she was still young and impatient. The kiss felt more remarkable than Obi-Wan had ever imagined. Padmè smelt like fresh washed clothes and tasted like sweet tea. He drew the line at her tongue though, as it pushed between his lips Obi-Wan reluctantly stepped back.

“Obi…” Padmè spoke his name filled with emotion as she gasped, her hand lifted unconsciously to her mouth.

“And here you claim to not like kissing men with beards.”

The music stopped.

“I'm sorry, I don't know... actually I'm not sorry. I've wanted to kiss you since I was a girl,” She tilted her chin defiantly. “I’m sure that’s why Qui-Gon wouldn’t take you with us when we went to look for the hyperdrive on Tatooine. He could sense my curiosity.”

“I am flattered,” Obi-Wan took hold of her hand. A foolish choice, but he sometimes was the fool. “But Padmè, I’m sure there are many men who would make you happy. Who are more your age.”

“There are many boys, but not many men,” she stepped closer. “You are not that much older than me.”

“Let me put another point to you. There are many other beings who are free to give you what you need. I don't need the Force to see inside you, and feel your loneliness. You must see you are wise and strong, cast your net, and if you find a partner half as good as you then you will be overjoyed.”

As he squeezed her hand she took hold of the other. Again Padmè’s lips found his own as she seemingly disregarded his advice. He closed his eyes. 

Padmè turned her head and they leant, tilting together, hearts pounding. 

Her voice sounded sad. “You are too kind Obi, you turn a girl down so sweetly.”

He wanted to tell her how much of a temptation she really was, but it was all ash. He couldn't leave the Jedi, the only family he had, the only way he knew how to live. And he couldn’t leave Anakin, the boy would never forgive his weakness. Obi-Wan had promised his master he would teach him, it was a promise he could not break.

They heard a soft knock tapped at the chamber’s door, and startled they both let go of each other’s hands. Both slid apart reluctantly. 

It was one of Padmè’s hand maidens.

“Excuse my interruption but, it is time for your meeting with the General Senator,” the girl informed her mistress.

“Thank you,” Padmè straightened her dress, smoothing invisible creases as the hand maiden bowed out of the room. 

Left together again Padmè held her hand out to Obi-Wan, “No awkwardness old friend?”

“None.” 

They touched hands, fingers outstretched, this time chaste and brief. If her eyes were a little red he pretended he didn’t see. 

Padmè bowed as she left him, sweeping away to try and convince another being to support the Galactic Senate. To fight in the war that seemed to drag on for generations.

Obi-Wan walked outside into the cool winter air of a rooftop garden. He could hear the band practicing for the evening’s ceremony. Sweet music drifted through the sound of passing traffic. 

He looked to the left, slowly, carefully and in perfect time. 

He looked to the right. 

Then he laughed at himself. If he ever did leave the Jedi he would make an excellent dance teacher.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you to the organisers of the May the 4th exchange.


End file.
